In silvered cedar lies the hope
the garden gives to all,
inviting realm of peace
in the depths of winter soil.
The tears and memories and hands
of all that went before
listen for movement in stillness,
Earthen darkness spun to ochre
like consciousness birthed into light.
Waiting for the sky to take back the rain,
for pale blue and forest green,
tips of twigs shimmer violet and teal,
reminiscent of swift hummingbirds,
diving beak first into an aqua pool.
Like the burst of flavour
in a succulent slice of orange,
you almost hear them calling,
Yemaya already sketching
the nectar to blossom.